Murphy's Law
by what-is-a-social-life
Summary: S.H.I.E.LD, mid-2005- Clint Barton was the living embodiment of Murphy's Law; anything that could go wrong, would go wrong when he was involved. And the fact that he impregnated a black market arms dealer that he had to take into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, well… You'd think that it couldn't get any worse than that, right? Wrong. [Inconsistent updating; see profile for details]
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: No, I do not own any part of the MCU. (Or _Poker Face_ )**

 **A/N: I normally ship Clintasha, but the existence of Laura and the kids makes me question how Clint met her, and what their story is. She doesn't seem to come from a S.H.I.E.L.D-esque background, but she allows her husband to risk his life on missions 24/7, so it stands to reason that she's seen him in action, right? And what the hell could make Clint Barton settle down (Ish), on a pretty large farm that he leaves in the care of his wife and children, yet still be active in the field? So… this sprung up. And I regret absolutely nothing.**

* * *

 _Russian roulette is not the same without a gun._

-Lady Gaga, _Poker Face_

* * *

CLINT

Clint's head snapped up as he heard the signs of a chopper approaching and cursed. May must have called extraction, though he couldn't figure out _why_. He and Nat _never_ took an extraction plan. (And not just because pretending to not know the local language could be really fun.)

There was a light tap on his back, the signal between him and Natasha that it was the other one and not to shoot. He let her help him up, and she burrowed into his side.

"Sometimes I forget you're only nineteen," he laughed.

"Because I'm so mature. C'mon; Mel won't wait all day."

"'Mel?' Are you and May on a _nickname basis_?"

"What, are you not?" Natasha retorted.

"Despite all the hate I got for bringing you in, every one likes you more than me, and I've been here a lot longer."

"Well, you're annoying," May called as she helped pull them up and into the quinjet.

"Oh, so I guess it's _Natasha_ then that's helping you TP all the quinjets at Headquarters tonight?"

"It could be if she wants to. She's probably better company than you, anyways," May replied. "Now shut up so we can report to Coulson."

"Aye, aye," Clint mock-saluted.

"I honestly don't understand how you still have this job," Natasha muttered.

"May, Barton, Romanoff, please come in," Coulson's voice said through their comms.

"Mark is in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, no S.H.I.E.L.D. or civilian casualties, but Barton is still a pain in the ass," Natasha reported.

"I'm sorry. You will all return to Headquarters. Agent May, you will debrief in debriefing room 6A; Agent Romanoff, you will oversee an assessment for Agent Morse in training room 3C; and Agent Barton, you and Akela Amador will be going on a mission to deal with arms dealer Samantha Fisher, being briefed by Agent Blake in briefing room 12B."

"Who's Akela Amador?" Clint asked.

"She's testing in from the Academy. Also, a general notice: As Agent May will be the first of you to debrief, she will not be allowed to speak to either of you until you have both given your sides."

"Because God forbid one person debrief for all of us on a casualty-free mission," Clint retorted. Natasha slapped him.

"See you at Headquarters, Agent Barton," Coulson replied. His voice cut off and there was an obvious click that meant he had disconnected the line. Since the girls seemed occupied, Clint decided a nap was in order if he was going on another mission, even more so if he was going on one with a new recruit.

Though he was pretty sure seasoned agent Natasha Romanoff was actually more trouble to deal with than an Academy test subject, especially if Bobbi was any indication.

* * *

"As you, Agent Barton, are very aware, arms dealers are a classic Clearance Level 1 dealing," Felix Blake said, placing the packet on the table. "However, Director Fury trusts your judgement very much, which is why you will not only be executing the mission, but testing Miss Amador's ability as well."

"What are the rules?"

"They are called _mission_ _parameters_ , Agent Barton."

"'Rules' is just so much easier to say." Blake looked like he was going to protest, but simply sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing.

"The number of acceptable losses is zero. Fisher needs to come in alive. She's not alive, you get penalized and Amador will not be allowed to join S.H.I.E.L.D. She may be drugged and unconscious, but if she's dead or on the verge of it, penalties will be awarded. And as a member of STRIKE Team Delta, any penalties you earn also affect Agent Romanoff, even on separate missions. Also, and I quote Director Fury's mission notes, 'no crazy Delta shit.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You get in, you get out. No explosions. No firefights. No hostage situations. None of it. Do you know how long it took to clean up Budapest after you two were done with it?"

"Budapest is a chaotic place, Agent Blake."

"Even more so when you're in it, apparently."

"So we get to pick how this is done?"

"Amador is supposed to come up with the plan. You are dismissed."

"Who's briefing Amador?"

Blake tossed down a second copy of the manilla folder in front of Clint.

"You are."

* * *

"You sure you don't want me to tag along? Make sure nothing goes wrong?" Natasha asked, checking that all of his weapons were safely secured and concealed inside his tux.

"We'll be fine, Tasha," he promised her. She gave a small smile at the new nickname. He'd started calling her that a month ago, in Abidjan, when she'd been shot in the arm and things looked bad. Today had been her first mission since a forced medical leave, one of the reasons May had been asked to go with.

"So, if she's the one being tested, why are _you_ the one going undercover?"

"Akela is, too. As one of her guards."

"Yeah, but you're getting up close and personal to her. I don't know how I feel about that."

"Natasha," he whispered, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear, "I know you don't like me going on missions without you, but it's just an arms dealer. Nothing overly momentous is going to happen."

"I know. I know, I know. I just… I'm scared."

"I know you are. But again, I'll be fine."

"Are you ready?" Akela called from the door, knocking on it lightly. Natasha stepped away from him quickly, awkwardly dropping her hands to her sides.

"Yeah. You have your pilot license?"

"Of course," Akela told him with a curt nod. He nodded back, only much more relaxed, and planted a quick kiss to Natasha's cheek.

"Let's go!"

The ride from Headquarters to the garage just outside the city was completely silent, and not the silence that Natasha provides of her shutting down Natasha Romanoff and becoming the Black Widow. He usually spends that time going over the mission in his head and deciding on how they'll get out in various different scenarios, but with Akela, he could just _tell_ that she would much, _much_ rather be doing this by herself. It reminded him of Nat during the first two or so years, back before she was even technically a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and was going through the same entrance tests that Academy testees had to go through.

He took the pilot's seat on their assigned quinjet and followed the directions the coordinates tell him to take. Akela continued to be completely silent.

 _Doesn't work well with others,_ he added to his mental checklist, _but a good strategist. Very Natasha-esque._

"We should cloak now," Akela told him, flicking switches across the dashboard.

"Oh yeah. Quinjets do that."

"You've never cloaked a quinjet before?"

"Natasha and I aren't usually that subtle, and if we are, she's always the one that remembers."

"And you're a Level 6 operative?" Akela asked with disdain.

"Hey, _I'm_ the one that gets to judge _you_ , not the other way around. Is it good?"

"Yeah," she said distractedly, flicking one last switch. "Now."

"Putting her down," he replied, and it was a rather nice landing, in his opinion. Akela did not seem to share it.

* * *

"I'm in," he whispered into his comms, glancing around the large ballroom. Samantha Fisher, he knew, was an up-and-coming black market arms dealer, but he also knew that she wasn't hosting this function, but rather the company she bought her tech from. She was one of the few arms dealers who didn't profit from Stark Industries tech, but she still was making a name for herself amongst the mercs of South America, mostly.

"Took you long enough," Akela muttered, and Clint was getting _serious_ déjà vu about how similar Akela was to early Natasha.

"I had to get through metal scanners with a bunch of metal weapons concealed in my tux; give me a break."

"Whatever. It's just that you're the Level 6; not me, and I'm doing better than you are."

"Only because S.H.I.E.L.D. can fake doc-"

"Barton, Amador, I would like to remind you that I am on comms for this mission," Maria Hill's voice announced in their ears, "And I have a date in three hours. I want this done by then."

"That Xander fella gonna propose?" Clint teased. He felt as if he could hear Akela's eye roll from across the ballroom, and Maria's sigh was sign enough he was overstepping. "Three hours. Got it. We can do that, right, Amador?"

"I can. I don't know about you."

"I'm not in the mood to deal with this right now. Amador, shut up. Barton, do your job."

"I am!"

"Barton," Maria replied curtly, "Three hours, and then you'll be stuck with someone who is less tolerant of this kind of stuff than I am."

"You're like the most no-nonsense person I know, though."

"Exactly."

"Alright, Amador, what you got?"

"I'm by the left side of the bar, closest to the kitchen, and she's about ten yards in front of me. There are four exits and two guards stationed at each one, as well as a total of four security cameras, all pointing towards the center of the ballroom, so stick to the sides as much as possible."

"Way to go Amador," Clint replied as he started heading in that direction. "Anything you can tell me about approaching her?"

"Don't be yourself." He heard Maria snort on the comms and really wished he could flip her the bird.

"Alright, found you. She the blonde in the blue dress or the redhead in the black?"

"Blonde. And I mean it, Barton: don't be yourself."

"The very definition of undercover, you'll find." She didn't respond, but he took her silence as confirmation, anyways, and strode up to the bar like he was rich enough to actually be attending this function.

He tapped Samantha on the shoulder and she turned around, looking almost appalled that someone _dare_ touch her.

"Sorry, ma'am, I was just wondering if I could slide in right here? I want to get a good look at what scotches they've got and this is the only place I can see them all from."

"Sure," she replied, scooting over enough so he could lay an arm on the bar. "I have to say, this one's pretty great," she replied, holding up her glass and shaking it a tad.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it." He got the bartender's attention and said, "I'll have one of whatever she's having." He turned his attention back to Samantha and put on his most dazzling smile. Akela, who could see his profile from where he was standing, snorted, but the smile didn't waver.

His drink arrived and he took a sip, letting the liquid wash down his throat. As it did, he really started to wish that she'd been drinking wine instead of scotch. When he was in a pit of self-despair, he could drink a whole bottle by himself, but when he was drinking it voluntarily, it tasted utterly disgusting.

"I don't think I've ever seen you here before, and I have a photographic memory."

"I'm a new shareholder. This company's taking off, and I want to be a part of it."

"Good answer," Samantha laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "You like it? The drink?" she continued, swirling the amber liquid around her tumbler before setting it back down on the bar in front of them. He wondered if that was a thing she did, considering she'd done it twice in less than fifteen minutes.

"It's different than what I'm used to, but I like it nonetheless."

"Good. I like a man with good taste in scotch."

"And why would that matter to me?"

"Because you can see the shelf just fine from anywhere along this side of the bar, and there's plenty of open spaces. You came up to me for a reason."

"Alright, it's true. I can't resist a beautiful girl."

It was true. Samantha really was beautiful. Her blonde hair was in a fancy bun at the back of her head and she had these huge earrings dripping from her ears. Her dress was a sleeveless sky blue that reached down to her ankles, and on her feet he could see that she was wearing tall silver heels. A silver cross necklace was the only jewelry adorning her neck, and he'd internally laughed at the irony of an arms dealer wearing that. He'd met plenty of arms dealers of both the male and female gender, but he'd never met one that drew him in quite as much as her.

"Barton," Maria said in his ear, but it didn't sound quite like she normally did. It sounded almost… sad. What was going on? "You're close; I can tell just from the conversation."

"I can, too, though I have a visual benefit. She seems… drawn to you," Akela breathed out.

"Something wrong?" Samantha asked him, and Clint returned his smile to his face.

"Just wondering what it will take to get you to leave here with me."

"That's rather forward," she laughed.

"But you haven't said no, and you're still talking to me." She looked taken aback, but then smiled.

"I suppose so. You're someone else Mr…"

"Donaldson," he said, "Bernard Donaldson."

"Bernard Donaldson?" Akela snickered, and he _really_ wanted to flip her the bird.

Again.

"Samantha Fisher. So, Mr. Donaldson, do you dance?"

"A little. Latin more so than this."

"I've spent years in South America; I know all the Latin dances like the back of my hand," Samantha said in shock.

"Really? That's amazing. I mostly travel in the Eastern Hemisphere, but I've been to Brazil a few times."

"What do you do there?"

"Bit of everything. Business, volunteer work. What about you?"

"Business, mostly, but all work and no play makes Jane a dull girl."

"I haven't heard that one before," Clint laughed.

"It's my own little twist. I was the breadwinner growing up, so I've been saying that for ages.."

"Me, too. Well, me and my brother were."

"Barton," Maria immediately chastised in his ear, "The mission."

"Really? I've never met many people from the US in my kind of situation," she said slowly.

"Me, neither."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and there was nothing coming over comms, though he knew that Akela was staring them down madly.

"Clint," Maria's voice finally chimed in, "The mission."

"So. Miss Fisher. If you know all the Latin dances, then I'm assuming-"

"Don't say another word, as I know exactly where you're heading with this." She reached into the clutch laying beside her and threw down some money, and, catching her drift, Clint quickly did, too.

"Yours or mine?"

"I happen to be right upstairs," Samantha replied smoothly as Clint deposited his own cash and she produced a key card from the depths of her clutch. He smiled, slipping his hand into hers, and he couldn't deny the electricity shooting between their skin.

"Lead the way."

Samantha made a signal with her free hand and Akela began to follow them at a slow, smooth pace. She lead the way up to her room and shut the door behind them, leaving Akela on the outside.

"Let me just use the restroom and then we can begin. I know you're anxious to see my Latin hips," she teased with a wink, closing the door to the bathroom.

That was when Clint realized he was totally, utterly screwed.

The plan with these kind of situations is you get them up to your room, put the drug in the alcoholic beverage you have waiting for them, and then bam, call for extraction and you're done. Except, Clint had let Samantha take them to _her_ room, where there was apparently no booze, and he couldn't exactly order it now; it would kill the mood and he would be out of luck. Water and coffee were the only things available, and since she would be able to taste it in the water, that meant he had to put it in the coffee, and coffee was not always an acceptable beverage at eleven o'clock at night, and pre-sex with a woman he barely knew, he doubted _that_ would go over well.

He knew what he had to do.

He pulled out his pager and sent a page to Akela, Maria, and Natasha telling them he was stuck until morning and would call for extraction then, and then he disconnected his comms and hid them in his tuxedo pocket, and luckily, she exited the bathroom then, clad in her undergarments and a slip.

"If you ripped that dress, I'd probably kill you," she laughed as she noticed his eyes roaming over her.

"Well, do what you want with this. I've got plenty more at home."

"Good to know."

Things got rather heated after that.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up first and took a shower, trying to get the images from last night out of his head, but not because they were bad. They were good. They were great, really. He almost felt kind of bad for taking her into custody, though considering she did the work that she did, he would probably get over it real fast. He still got shit for bringing in Natasha, and it had been several years since he'd done that. Letting Samantha go would secure his status as the office joke.

She woke up just as the coffee finished and smiled at him.

"Thank you. I thought for sure you were going to leave."

"I'm not that type of guy," he replied, pouring the vial into her coffee cup and then sliding it to her. She took a sip and sighed.

"This is really good coffee. Did you do something to it?"

"Just a bit of flavoring."

"Ah. You know, maybe we could make this a regular thing."

"I don't think that'll be possible."

The drug kicked in right then and she fell forward, him catching her and pulling her onto the bed. He then sent another page to Maria, Akela, and Natasha:

 _Mission accomplished._

* * *

 **A/N: This is for anyone who is confused about this Samantha Fisher character. Yes, this is Laura. Yes, Samantha is blonde. Yes, Clint's been working with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while now and he's just now meeting Laura/Samantha. All will be explained; I promise.**


	2. We're In An Awful Mess

**DISCLAIMER: No, I do not own any part of the MCU.**

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows! They all make me so happy; you have no idea.**

* * *

SAMANTHA

Samantha had been in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody for six weeks, being as uncooperative as humanly possible. She didn't utter a single word in any of her interrogations, all conducted by a different person. She was pretty sure the next one to give her one would be the director themself. She ate the food, of course, because it was actually pretty okay, but she didn't eat peas and had had a lot of fun using them to spell out cuss words the first and only time she had them that would've made her Roman Catholic parents sob. Well, she did until somebody on the other side of the camera reported what she was doing and somebody else came in and not only took the peas, but also her remaining food, which she was most _definitely_ not pleased about.

Needless to say, she hadn't played with her food again.

As the weeks went on, though, she was starting to get pissed about how she had to eat on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s schedule. She'd gotten what she assumed was food poisoning from the steak they'd served her one night early in and could barely keep anything down, but they'd still take her food away, even if she hadn't touched it, and that became irritating when she'd get ravenously hungry around 3:30.

S.H.I.E.L.D. finally caught on that something was up after her first six weeks and that was when she finally left the containment facility and was taken to a lab.

Of course, she wasn't allowed to know the location of either facility and was drugged during the ride.

"Agent Calderon, has Agent Weaver arrived?" were the first words she could hear, and when she opened her eyes there were two agents in the small room with her.

"Her quinjet just landed; she'll be here any minute."

Agent Weaver, to Bobbi's surprise, turned out to be a woman who simply took a blood sample and then left. Agent Calderon and the other agent talked in hushed tones in the corner of the room while Samantha simply sat on her little bed, pressing the cotton ball into her arm much harder and for much longer than needed. She caught a wiff of Agent Calderon's cologne as he exited the room to check on Agent Weaver and she prepared to throw up, though the other agent quickly realized what was happening and held a bedpan underneath her that she could vomit into. She self-consciously wiped her mouth when she was done and flashed the agent an embarrassed smile.

"Thank you."

"I have a five year old with a weak immune system and, on top of that, she has a relatively small stomach and we're still learning her limits. I do this a lot."

"Do you see her much? Your daughter?"

"My ex-wife and I finalized our divorce last week, and her mother won full custody, but I get to see her up to three times a month. We have a visit this weekend."

"Have a good time," she replied, and she really hope that he understood that she meant it. She'd always loved kids. The views her parents had on abortion were about the only things that the three of them all agreed on.

Agent Weaver came back into the room, Agent Calderon trailing behind her. Both looked worried, and Samantha involuntarily tensed.

"Ms. Fisher. You entered S.H.I.E.L.D. custody six weeks ago, correct?" Agent Weaver asked, and Samantha was surprised that she had a British accent.

"Yes, I think so."

"And do you remember which agent brought you in?

"Shouldn't that be in the files?"

"None of us can get into the mission report, as it also served as confidential testing information for one of our new agents. Do you remember his name?"

"I don't know his real one, but the alias he used was 'Bernard Donaldson.'" Agent Calderon nodded and left the room quickly. Agent Weaver stared at the other agent with a look that clearly said, 'Hallway _now_ ,' but the agent didn't seem to get it.

"Agent Browning, can I speak to you for a moment?" Agent Weaver finally asked, and the two agents stepped out into the hallway.

Samantha was left alone in the room for what she counted in her head as twenty-six minutes before the three agents returned. The two boys looked like they were close to cracking up, but Agent Weaver's face was perfectly calm.

"Is this the agent?" she asked, holding up a black and white fax of Bernard Donaldson, which said 'BARTON, CLINTON' in one of the corners.

"Yes, it is."

Agent Weaver pressed a hand to the Bluetooth on her ear and asked for Agent Barton and Dr. Harper to be on stand-by, then she returned her attention to Samantha. Worry was starting to eat its way at her by all the silence between the agents, and why was it so important about who brought her into custody?

Holy crap, Agent Barton hadn't given her an STD, had he?

Wait, could you test STDs in blood samples?

"Miss Fisher. I know this will sound like a strange question, but when was your last menstrual cycle?"

The fact that Agent Calderon suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable distracted Samantha and Agent Browning had to escort him out of the room. It was all quite comical, and then she was faced with answering Agent Weaver's question. It was mid June, now, so should've had her last one…

Almost four weeks ago.

And she hadn't.

"Oh, God," she groaned, running her hands through her hair, "You've got to be shitting me."

"So I take it you've missed it, then?" Samantha nodded, dazed. "Miss Fisher, did you and Agent Barton engage in sexual intercourse?"

"Yes," she managed to croak out, and then she remembered. It would still be bad, of course, but not as bad as it might be if this Clinton Barton dude had fathered the possible baby inside of her. "But I did have sex with someone else during that same week."

"Well, your blood test showed elevated levels of hCG, which indicates a pregnancy. Agent Barton, as well as the North American S.H.I.E.L.D. OB/GYN are going to come out to make sure we're right."

"What does Agent Barton have to do with anything?"

"We would have to confirm his paternity." Samantha nodded, taking this all in.

She was most likely _pregnant_.

With the baby of a secret agent.

Who worked for an organization that had her locked up in a cell.

She was not at all ashamed to admit that she threw up into the bedpan.

Again.

* * *

It didn't seem as if Clint understood why he had been flown out to this S.H.I.E.L.D. base alongside not only some random S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor, but an OB/GYN at that, and Samantha _really_ didn't want to be the one to tell him. She was starting to wonder whether or not this whole 'impregnating someone you took into custody' was common amongst the male S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or whether they had an obstetrician on their payroll for a reason.

His pager beeped the whole ten minutes they were alone together, which Samantha assumed was time that was spent briefing the OB/GYN on this whole fucked up situation.

"Who's paging you?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Natasha, probably," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Who's Natasha?"

"My partner."

"As in… girlfriend?"

"No, as in my S.H.I.E.L.D.-assigned partner."

"Do you… have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend or anything?"

"No… Why do you care?"

"Just trying to make conversation," she muttered, though she would admit that the knot in her stomach loosened slightly at those words.

It was then that the woman she assumed was Dr. Harper followed Agent Weaver into the room. Samantha caught sight of Agent Calderon and Agent Browning standing outside just as the door shut.

She also noticed Agent Weaver holding a large needle behind her back. That was unsettling.

"Agent Weaver, why am I here, and why do you have that?"

So he'd seen it, too, not that Agent Weaver was being overly conspicuous. But with the way that Agent Weaver was standing, he shouldn't have been able to see it.

"Agent Barton, Agent Weaver is going to explain all of that. After Miss Fisher and I have left the room," Dr. Harper replied. "Miss Fisher?"

Samantha stood up slowly and followed Dr. Harper down the hall a little ways and into a room identical to the previous one, although this one happened to have what she assumed was a sonogram machine.

"Since Agent Weaver hypothesizes that you're only about a month in, we'll have to use the transvaginal ultrasound to get the best image; I hope that's alright. In such a delicate situation as this one, we really can't have any inaccuracies," Dr. Harper apologized as she rummaged in a large duffle bag on the floor and then pulled out a standard-issue hospital gown, which Samantha took carefully. "I'm really sorry about… all this," Dr. Harper and Samantha knew that she actually meant it.

"Thank you. Where should I change?"

"There's a bathroom right there. I'm going to finish setting everything up while you change." Samantha nodded and stepped into the bathroom. The gown was more papery than she thought normal hospital gowns were, but she wasn't going to push it. The situation was stressful enough as it was, and she wasn't going to waste energy on complaining about backless hospital gowns.

How was S.H.I.E.L.D. going to handle her pregnancy, because it was time to face it: It was highly unlikely that she _wasn't_ pregnant. Would she be kept in custody? Would she be kept in custody but in a house arrest style situation instead of the current one? Would they force her to terminate it? If she didn't end it, would she have to put it up for adoption, or would her child be completely raised in a S.H.I.E.L.D. cell?

And what if Agent Barton actually _was_ the father? That would make things even more complicated than they already were, because he would be involved. Maybe. She wasn't sure how all that would work, if he even wanted to be involved. It made her anxious just thinking about it.

Dr. Harper kept the screen pointed away from her the entire time, which Samantha wasn't sure whether she appreciated or not. Considering how long it took, she prepared herself for the outcome that had been dancing around in her head ever since Agent Weaver had first uttered the words hours ago.

"Well, Agent Weaver was right," Dr. Harper said at the end of the exam, and Samantha nodded slowly, because there wasn't the slight possibility that Agent Weaver had been wrong anymore. This was 100% fact. "Now, you said that this baby may be someone else's?"

"Yes," she answered honestly, though with the way her luck seemed to be running, she doubted that she would be that lucky.

It couldn't get any worse, right?

"That will require us to do a paternity test. Are you aware of that?"

"I figured."

"And are you aware that invasive paternity tests can result in miscarriages?"

"I am now."

"Do you still agree for us to perform this test?"

"I think I'd rather know then not," she admitted after a moment. Dr. Harper nodded.

"I'll alert Agent Weaver, and then we'll perform the test. After that I promise, you can get some rest. We won't know the results for a little while, anyways."

"You can do that kind of testing here?"

"You'd be amazed at everything that goes on in this facility, especially considering its location. We'll have the results at some point tomorrow, and I'll make sure that you're fed when it's appropriate and not on the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. schedule."

"Thank you," she replied. She wondered if anyone was taking her seriously when she, the arms dealer, said anything sincere.

"Of course. My husband's an agent, and they have the most insane schedules. Being on the payroll, I have a busy one, too, but not as bad as him. It's gotten better now that he's a higher rank, but still. Our teenagers have to be the ones to remind _us_ to eat and get enough sleep."

"How old are they?"

"Maya just turned seventeen and Ethan will be fourteen in August. We had them when we were older because of S.H.I.E.L.D. and me getting my doctorate and everything." Samantha nodded.

"Dr. Harper?"

"Yes?"

"Why _does_ S.H.I.E.L.D. have an OB/GYN on its payroll?"

"Well, they have like to have a gynecologist for when female agents get shot or otherwise wounded in their abdomens, especially for those who want to have children. S.H.I.E.L.D. also keeps track of the cycles of all the female agents who suffer from bad cramps, which can be used when assigning missions because pain is a good distraction that some of them really can't afford. They also use us, as there's three of us, at least there's three of us in North America, as aids to keep the female medical records as up-to-date as possible."

"But you're also an obstetrician."

"I am, yes."

"Why does S.H.I.E.L.D. need an obstetrician?"

"Well, there are female agents who get pregnant while with S.H.I.E.L.D. and need to see an obstetrician that understands their lifestyle. There are situations like yours. And then there are some female agents where they execute a take in the way Agent Barton did and find themselves pregnant, and have an abortion."

Samantha nodded.

"Are you ready?"

"For the test?" Dr. Harper nodded. "Do what needs to be done."

* * *

The next morning, Samantha and Clint sat side-by-side in what she was pretty sure was an interrogation room. They sat there, silent and alone, for several minutes before Agent Browning opened the door for Dr. Harper and she walked in, closing the door tightly behind her.

"Agent Barton, as you are aware, Miss Fisher is, in fact, pregnant, and the results from the paternity test have arrived, and you are the father."

Samantha was pretty sure her entire world had just crashed down.

"Me? I created a human being?"

"No need to sound so shocked, Agent Barton, as it is a natural biological phenomenon."

She found a whole new appreciation for Dr. Harper at _that_ comment.

"So, what does that mean?"

"Well, I'll have to speak to Director Fury, but usually, if a situation like this occurs, we strongly encourage-"

"No," Samantha interrupted. "Religious conflict."

"You're _actually_ Christian?" Agent Barton asked in what sounded a lot like shock, which she did not appreciate.

"No, but my parents are. My parents _were_ ," she corrected after a moment, "And I want to honor them. So, no, Dr. Harper, abortion is not an option."

"I understand," Dr. Harper agreed. "Again, I'll have to speak with Director Fury about what, exactly, the situation with your detainment is, but right now, adoption probably makes the most sense."

"Right now it does, but I will not make a decision until you have spoken to Director Fury."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Agent Barton said harshly, glaring at her.

"Why do you care? Even if I don't give it up for adoption, you will not be involved."

"That's not fully your decision!"

"And it's not fully yours either, so shut up."

"Are we done now?" Dr. Harper asked in a strict tone, a tone she must've perfected on her kids.

"Yes, Dr. Harper," Samantha said immediately, staring at Clint in what she considered her most coercing expression.

"Yes, Dr. Harper," he echoed.

"I think it would be best if we all went to Headquarters together, don't you? That way we can get everything sorted as soon as possible."

"I think that will work. Miss Fisher?" Agent Barton asked in a tone that reminded Samantha of a snake spitting venom.

"That will be just fine."


	3. Face That Wind By Your Side

**DISCLAIMER: No, I do not own any part of the MCU.**

* * *

NATASHA

The first thing Natasha did when she found out what happened was laugh for a solid half hour, because the entire situation was Classic Clint.

The second thing she did was stare at him in shock because _holy fucking shit_ Clint Barton, _Clinton fucking Barton_ , a walking disaster, was going to be a father.

If Samantha let him be involved, and if he chose to do so in the first place.

"What are you going to do, though? Really?"

"Did you know that when you get serious, your accent bleeds through?"

"Answer the question, Clinton."

His eyes glanced up from the floor to stare into hers, the rich blue color she'd grown so attached to in her years by his side. She could normally read facial expressions pretty well, especially his, because he could only hide how he really felt when he was trying, but he was unreadable for the first time in a long time.

And that was when she made _her_ decision.

"This is what's going to happen."

"I don't like the sound of that, funnily enough."

"You are going to make a decision about whether or not you want to be involved in this. And 'this' can be as simple as supporting whatever decision _she_ makes, because as far as I'm concerned, she makes the final call. But no matter what you decide, you tell Samantha. And I will support you nonetheless."

"Why are you going to do that? I royally fucked up. Again."

"Because you're my best friend, Barton, and I've come to learn that best friends support each other no matter what. And I owe you a debt. This is part of me repaying."

"You do not owe me anything, Nat," he replied, "And you never will, okay?"

Natasha sighed, which he seemed to accept as her answer. He made his way towards the small table they kept by the front door of their small apartment a few blocks from Headquarters and pulled out his keys.

"Tell somebody I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"You're basically Public Enemy Number One!"

"Only at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"So where are you going to go? S.H.I.E.L.D. will follow you; they always do."

"I'm going to the FBI, of course. Can't track me there"

"Why are you going to see Barney? Thanksgiving isn't until November, smart one."

"Barney's a father, smart ass. Maybe… maybe he can help."

That shut her up pretty damned quick.

* * *

Natasha spent the remainder of the day working with Bobbi and trying to ignore Phil breathing down her neck about where Clint had disappeared to. She was hoping Bobbi wouldn't notice it, but she had, since Bobbi was incredibly perceptive.

And inquisitive.

"So Agent Barton had to have done something bad on a mission, right?" Bobbi asked. "Can I try and guess?"

"You can try, but it's pretty far out in left field."

"Okay. Did he go way over acceptable losses?"

"No losses whatsoever."

"Did he…"

"Look, Bobbi, I know you mean well, but it'll take you forever to guess it, so I'm just going to tell you: Clint got the arms dealer he was taking into custody pregnant."

Natasha turned on her heel to continue towards the locker room, hoping Bobbi would go away. It wasn't that Natasha didn't _like_ Bobbi, it was merely that she was in no mood to deal with her questions. Right now her mind was consumed with thoughts about what the _fuck_ Clint was going to do, and whether or not he and Barney had murdered each other yet. (They only saw each other on Thanksgiving for a reason.)

"Agent Romanoff, please report to Director Fury's office," Joseph Dalloway's voice chirped into her ear.

"Agent Dalloway, I swear, Clint was responsible for yesterday's cafeteria incident-"

It's not that she was _scared_ of Nick Fury, because she didn't get _scared_ , not really. She just didn't need a penalty at a time like this, because, contrary to popular belief, Natasha Romanoff _did_ , actually, have a heart, and she owed Clint her continued use of it. When he was dealing with shit, it usually meant that she was dealing with it, too.

"This is not a disciplinary event, Agent Romanoff, but please report to Director Fury's office nonetheless. Now."

"On my way, Agent Dalloway."

Upon her arrival at Fury's office, his secretary all but shoved her into the place, even though Natasha was not someone who was unable to enter Fury's office. Clint, on the other hand…

Dalloway stood behind Fury, which wasn't exactly _unsettling_ , as the Black Widow never got _unsettled_ , but more… threatening. As if Fury wasn't threatening enough on his own. He definitely looked the part of head of a secret spy organization.

Dalloway, on the other hand, was a happily married man with four kids- teenagers, at that, with three of them being girls- and yet he always sported a grin on his face. He had been at S.H.I.E.L.D. since he was twenty-one years old, when he graduated top of his class at the Academy. Natasha had never actually been on a mission with him, but he was rumored to be one of the scariest agents to see in the field.

Looking at the grinning, balding, fifty-something year old in front of her, it was kind of hard to believe, but he was deputy director for a reason.

"You asked to see me, Agent Dalloway?"

"I actually requested you, Agent Romanoff," Fury replied, "Thank you. Dalloway." The second the door shut behind Dalloway, Fury sighed and sank down a little in his seat. "Barton's in trouble. You're aware of this, right?"

"You mean because of the Fisher situation? And if you just called me here to penalize STRIKE Team Delta-"

"No, that is not why I called you here. As I hope Dalloway told you, this is not a disciplinary meeting. And yes, because of the Fisher situation."

"I don't know what you expect me to do, sir."

"Help him. Help him make the right decision."

"Which is what, sir?"

"I don't know."

After that conversation, Natasha decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had spent basically four years in Director Fury's office as they conducted virtually every test- physical, mental, emotional- ever designed before it even became a remote _possibility_ for her to be a field agent. And when she wasn't in Fury's office, she was in the very same containment cells that Samantha was now in.

So she knew the path from one to the other like the back of her hand.

* * *

"I don't know what you want from me," Samantha said, staring at Natasha with an incredibly open facial expression, but Natasha was a trained spy. Her face was open, but her eyes betrayed her to the fact that she was most definitely _not_ an open book.

"I want to get to know you."

"Isn't that what I should be asking of you and Agent Barton? You're the mysteries."

"Well, at least we use our real names on base." _That's a lie_ , her brain reminded her, but she ignored it, because her legal name was now 'Natasha Romanoff' instead of 'Natalia Romanova.' "Is 'Samantha Fisher' even yours?"

"Let's make a deal, then. You can ask me a question, and, if you're satisfied with the answer, then I get to ask you a question, and we go back and forth."

"For how long?"

"Until one of us is asked to leave."

Natasha thought this over. She needed to know enough about Samantha to help Clint make a decision about all this, but she didn't see why her personal life had to be dragged into it.

"Will the questions be about me, personally?"

"Depends. How well do you know Clint?"

"Very," she replied, and Samantha nodded slowly.

"About you both, then."

"Alright. Who first?"

"You. I guess."

"Alright. Is Samantha Fisher your real name?"

"Yes, it is, though nobody I'm actually close to me calls me that."

"Alright. Your go."

"How did you and Clint meet?"

"Truth?"

"I thought that's what this whole thing was."

"Oh, neither of us ever agreed to that. So do you want it or not?"

"Yes, I want the truth."

"Alright, but I expect the same in turn. Clint was supposed to take me out, but he made a different call, and now I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's my best friend and partner, and I won't let anybody hurt him. Not even someone he barely knows."

"Agent Romanoff, if this is about Agent Barton being involved… I don't want him to be."

"Why not?" Natasha asked. That was what she had been yearning to know all along, why Clint wasn't allowed to at the very least help make the decision about what would happen to his kid.

"There have only been a few times in my life when I've been completely sure about a decision I'm making. Not aborting this baby is one of them. I'm not a religious person, but my parents were, and they're dead now, and it's all my fault that they are. They would be damned if I aborted this baby, and I will do whatever it takes to make up for what I did."

That part Natasha understood. If she could see her parents again, she would, and she would do anything to make them proud of her, and she knew that Clint felt the same way about his mother, but never his father. But just because she understood a part of it didn't mean that she understood all of it.

"As for not letting him be a part of it… I don't know what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants from me. I've been here for almost two months and I know that I'm not being cooperative, but there has to be a reason that I'm still here that's not just reform, because it's pretty easy to reform an arms dealer, I think. It'll be pretty easy to reform me, at least. I've never been fully able to stomach what I do. It's a revenge thing, really. But that's not the full point. No matter where I or this baby end up, pregnancy I can handle, and I can handle it alone."

"Samantha," Natasha interrupted, "I don't know if there's a reason S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't given up on you, but I am fairly confident that Clint, if you allow him to, he will be by your side the whole time and will support any and every decision you make. I know Clint Barton, Samantha, and trust me, he is someone everyone should know. Especially his kid, even if it's just over the course of nine months."

Samantha glanced up at her through her eyelids, as if needing to make sure that Natasha wasn't lying. She could lie straight through her teeth; she'd been trained as a spy, after all, but she wouldn't lie about Clint, not ever. He was her best friend and nothing could or would ever change that.

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

* * *

Clint returned to their apartment late that night. She could hear him drop his keys into the dish by the door, so his quiet call of, "I'm back" she thought was rather unnecessary. She considered putting down her book and going out to see him, to see if he would open up about his meeting with Barney, but she knew him and knew that he would open up on his own pretty quickly.

"Aren't you going to ask what took me so long?"

"Since it was probably you and Barney arguing all day, no."

"I didn't just visit Barney. I also went to talk to Samantha."

"Oh?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow and marking her page in the book. This, she could tell, would require her full, undivided attention. "What did you talk about?"

"I've decided I want to be involved. And she said that a certain redhead put in a good word for me, so she's gonna let me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know if we'll keep the baby after it's born, but I'm meeting with Nick tomorrow to find out how to get her out, and then we'll go from there."

Natasha nodded. There seemed to be a newfound… she wouldn't say _confidence_ , not really, but rather weight that he now carried. It was odd, seeing Clint like this, but she supposed she would need to get used to it.

"You're going to help us, right?"

"Any way that I can. I promise I will."

Clint pulled her into a hug and she let him, wrapping her arms tentatively around his neck. Clint was her best friend and she cared incredibly deeply for him, maybe too deeply for a nineteen year old, but there were some people in your life that you would always care about in a way more intimate than the relationship befitted. Clint was hers.

"Thank you, Tasha. Thank you so much."

"Anything for you."

And she meant it.


	4. Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return

**DISCLAIMER: No, I do not own any part of the MCU.**

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows! They all make me so happy; you have no idea.**

* * *

NICK

When Clint asked for a meeting as to how he could get Samantha out of S.H.I.E.L.D custody, Nick knew it was going to be bad, but he didn't quite realize _how_ bad.

"You want to put a _pregnant_ woman inside a suspected Ten Rings cell to gather intel for you?!"

"Well, that was the plan."

"You're insane! You're-"

"I said _was_ the plan, Agent Barton. The new plan is to put a look-alike operative in her place, with Miss Fisher feeding her any relevant information that they would need. We're thinking that Agent Morse is the most likely candidate."

"But she would still be required to stay in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

"Yes."

"And there's no way around that?"

"No way around."

"But you're the director."

"And if I went changing around what the World Security Council asked on such a noticeable basis, I would no longer _be_ the director."

"What does that doctor have to say about it? Agent Gonzales's wife, that doctor."

"Dr. Harper? She said that while she wishes Miss Fisher would not be in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, she understands that she cannot argue with the World Security Council about the fate of an arms dealer in our custody, regardless of her condition."

"There must be a rule somewhere about not being allowed to keep a pregnant woman in custody."

"Not that anyone's ever told me, and I would prefer to keep that on the downlow to the World Security Council."

"Why?"

"Because they would send in Miss Fisher. If we don't tell them she's pregnant, just say that she failed an undercover test instead, they would approve sending in Agent Morse as a decoy and keeping Miss Fisher in custody to feed Agent Morse information. It's the safest option, but we would need to present it to her, Agent Romanoff, and Agent Morse first. If she declines, or Agent Romanoff doesn't think Agent Morse is ready, or if Agent Morse proves to not be as adept at field work as her Academy scores indicate, we'll find something else, I promise."

"You promise? Didn't you tell me to never make promises you can't keep?"

"This one I think I can."

Clint gave him a deep, long, very pensive look, one that he'd never seen on Clint's face before that made his blood run cold.

But then he nodded, and Nick managed to breathe once the door was shut behind him.

"Agent Dalloway," he barked into his comm unit, pressing the button for a new call.

"Yes, sir."

"What is the status on Miss Fisher?"

"Let me check, sir." Nick waited for a few minutes until Dalloway's voice responded, "She's currently taking a nap, sir, and Dr. Harper says that S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel are not allowed to wake her up without express permission from her." Nick cursed before saying, "Thank you, Agent Dalloway." He pressed the new call button before saying, "Dr. Harper."

"Director Fury."

"What's this I hear about Miss Fisher not being allowed to be woken up by S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel?"

"Pregnancy is taxing on the body, Director Fury."

"She's in a cell, Dr. Harper. She has plenty of time to sleep."

"Not when she's still being interrogated by agents for hours every day."

"Those will be terminated _if_ I can go down now and speak to you, her, Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff, and Agent Morse." He heard Dr. Harper on the other line and then she said, "I'm faxing you my seal of approval now, and will meet you down there in half an hour."

"Dr. Harper, before you go."

"Yes, sir?"

"I understand that keeping everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. in top condition is your number one priority, whether they are an employee or not, but, in the future, please tell me when you think it within their best interest to pull stunts like this."

"Of course, sir. I just wasn't sure on your stance in regards to Miss Fisher's situation and thought it best if I took authority in the interim."

"Well now you know."

"I will update her guards with the information and see you down there in half an hour."

"Thank you, Dr. Harper."

* * *

"It's a solid plan," Bobbi said, not glancing up from her hands, "But it's not my decision."

"Nor mine," Natasha agreed. "Clint?"

"It's better than the alternative, that's for sure. I still don't love it, though."

"Miss Fisher?" Nick asked, glancing at the woman in question, who, like Bobbi, wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What do you think?" she said to Dr. Harper.

"As of right now, I can't think of any way this could be detrimental to the pregnancy, as long as Director Fury and Agent Dalloway let me call some of the shots in regards to your treatment while in custody and what will happen if you have the baby before Agent Morse completes whatever the World Security Council has asked of this mission. Is that possible, Director?"

"Yes, I will make it so."

"And you?" Samantha asked, looking at Clint. "You want a say in this, now's your chance."

"Like I said, I don't love the idea of you being kept here. But Dr. Harper will make sure you're well taken care of and that the baby's healthy, and it'll be nice to have you close by so we can talk about after. So… yes, I think this is a good idea. But what about you?"

"I'll do it," she said to Nick, which Clint took to mean an answer to his question.

"I'll speak to the World Security Council this evening, then."

* * *

"And one last thing," Nick said just as he could tell that Alexander Pierce's mouth was about to open to adjourn the meeting, even if he couldn't actually _see_ them through the phone. "It's about the Ten Rings undercover op with Agent Rivera and asset Samantha Fisher."

"Yes?" Councilman Mallik, new blood who'd come from NASA, according to Pierce, asked on the other end of the line.

"We have tested Miss Fisher's undercover abilities, and it not likely that we can risk sending her undercover without her likely blowing her cover and Agent Rivera's. She happens to bare a strong resemblance to Agent Morse, however, and Agent Dalloway and I were wondering if we could send her in Miss Fisher's place, while keeping Miss Fisher in custody to feed Agent Morse any and all relevant information."

There was silence on the other end of the line for several moments before he was able to make out indistinct muttering on the other side. Dalloway, sitting on the other side of Nick's desk, immediately leaned in, as he's always had the better ear between the two of them. After a few moments of his ear to the phone, Dalloway sat up with a grim expression. Nick knew that Dalloway was going to shake his head before he did it.

"I'm afraid we cannot authorize that," Councilwoman Hawley announced on the other end of the line. "We do not think that Agent Morse is a suitable candidate for this mission."

"If it's because of the large age discrepancy between the two, trust me, it is rather hard to notice."

"We are more concerned with her clearance level, Director Fury," Pierce said sharply, "She entered from the Academy barely two months ago. She is not prepared to go on such a high-risk mission."

"Top of her class at the Academy, Councilman Pierce, and one of the most promising undercover operatives I've ever seen. I believe she could one day match Agent Romanoff."

"No," Pierce said firmly.

"We'll find someone else, then," Dalloway replied, moving his chair over towards the computer in Nick's office. "I'm sure we can find-"

"Director Fury, we cannot authorize sending in a replacement, even with Miss Fisher's promised cooperation."

"And why is that?" he demanded. "While I understand your concerns, Agent Rivera has seen footage taken of Agent Morse in Academy undercover training and agrees she would be a great asset. Miss Fisher has agreed to comply. We are prepared to proceed with the mission you've asked of us."

"Fisher goes in, or the mission doesn't happen. But that means the blood of Ten Rings' next victims will be on your hands," Mallick threatened. Nick exchanged a glance with Dalloway, who looked confused.

"Councilman Mallik, it has come to our attention that Miss Fisher is pregnant," Fury finally said, knowing he was betraying their trust.

"Fisher goes in, Director Fury," Councilwoman Hawley replied.

"The World Security Council is adjourned," Pierce said on the other end of the line and the phone soon made the noise it does when the other line goes dead.

Nick swore.

"What do we do, Director Fury?" Dalloway asked.

"We're going to do whatever is necessary to hide her pregnancy from the Council and to let Morse go on the mission."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we're planning a breakout, Agent Dalloway."

* * *

The next morning, Coulson, Dalloway, Clint, Natasha, Bobbi, and Samantha were all gathered in a conference room at Headquarters. Samantha was barely awake, which Nick assumed was due to her pregnancy and current living conditions more than anything else, though he couldn't figure out why Clint looked the same.

"What did the Council say?" Natasha asked, looking the most alert out of everyone in the room.

"They denied our request."

Clint and Samantha's heads swung up in unison.

"Even after you told them? I'm assuming you told them," Samantha replied.

"I did. They still denied."

"I feel like I'm missing something, which I'm assuming has something to do with your mysterious disappearance off base two days ago?" Coulson said to Clint, who looked sheepish.

"Yeah, it does," Clint replied. "Samantha's pregnant."

"Only you, Agent Barton," Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What else have I missed?"

"Short version? Miss Fisher has been asked to go undercover with Agent Rivera into a Ten Rings cell. The Council, despite knowing she's pregnant, says only she can go in, not Agent Morse like we hoped."

"Okay. So what's the solution, then?"

"Barton and Romanoff are going to break Miss Fisher out," Dalloway responded, "And we're going to give the Council no choice but to send Morse in."

"What do you mean by 'break her out?'" Clint asked.

"I mean you'll break her out and keep her safe."

"Are you telling us to leave S.H.I.E.L.D?" Natasha demanded. "Permanently?"

"Indefinitely," Nick amended.

"It's a plan," Samantha said after a moment, her voice directing his attention away from Clint and Natasha's silent conversation, "But unless you're all in, I'm not agreeing. The Council can go fuck themselves."

"I like you," Clint declared. "I'm in."

Everyone had consented until it was just Natasha left, which he knew would be the hardest to convince. S.H.I.E.L.D. was her life.

"I'm in," she finally said, her voice not wavering. Clint reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

* * *

Two weeks later, they put the plan into motion.

"Director Fury," Nick heard spoken into his comms unit, "This is Agent Blake. I was in charge of employee sign-in this morning."

"Yes, Agent Blake?"

"Neither Agent Barton nor Agent Romanoff signed in this morning, sir, and both Agents Coulson and Morse say they haven't seen them."

"Thank you, Agent Blake; I'll call their apartment and get back to you."

Just in case anyone checked the records, Nick actually did look up their phone number and call them. They didn't answer, which he assumed meant they were already in the holding cells.

"Alert, alert," a voice was heard announcing over the loudspeakers, "Agents Barton and Romanoff are breaking an asset out of custody. I repeat, Agents Barton and Romanoff are breaking an asset out of custody."

It took a few minutes before the words settled in, but soon the building erupted.

* * *

"Thank you all for being prompt," Nick's voice boomed throughout the cafeteria. Coulson and Dalloway stood on either side of him. "I have called you all here in response to this morning's events."

No one had been able to catch Clint, Natasha, and Samantha as they sprinted away, though someone had gotten their plate number, apparently, but he would deal with how to handle that later.

"The search for Agents Barton and Romanoff begins now. However, before you leave, you all need to know that Samantha Fisher, the asset they took, is currently pregnant with Agent Barton's child. Should any harm come to her, I will sic Dr. Arianna Harper on you, and it will not be pretty. Do you understand?"

Everyone in the cafeteria nodded. Some of the agents who knew Arianna looked terrified, but her husband looked like Christmas had come early, a rather terrifying expression to see on Robert Gonzales' face.

"Bring Agents Barton and Romanoff in unharmed. Whenever you are unoccupied, I want people on this. Work in your teams and your partnerships; include the scientists, secretaries, engineers, anyone you think can help. Make sure you eat and sleep and train. But when you're not, I need your help."

Everyone nodded, though no one moved. Nick rolled his eye.

"Starting _now_!"

Everyone scattered, except for Bobbi, Dalloway, and Coulson.

"Now the real work begins."


	5. Me & That Girl That I Met On The Street

**DISCLAIMER: No, I do not own any part of the MCU.**

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows! They all make me so happy; you have no idea.**

* * *

"They're going to be tailing us the second we do anything to give our position away. They have all of our aliases on file."

"Not all of them," Clint said to Natasha, pulling three fakes out of his pocket. "IDs, passports, and full bank accounts, the latter courtesy of Barney's doting spouse. William Cross, Lindsay Dinkley, and Samantha Leigh."

"Really? You only changed her last name?" Natasha asked, glancing back at the bathroom door that Samantha had practically raced through ten minutes earlier.

" _You're_ Samantha Leigh, genius."

"Still, it's still risky keeping that name."

"Exactly. S.H.I.E.L.D. knows that we'd be better than that."

"They'll try and look for face recognition."

"You and I both know that that software is still not as good as it should be," he told her just as Samantha came out of the bathroom, looking like she might run back in there to puke again.

"Feeling any better?" Natasha asked, switching topics as fast as she could.

"Not really, but we have to move, right?" she said, chuckling nervously.

"Yes, yes we do," Clint replied, straightening up. "Let's get going. We've got a flight to catch."

"Where are we going?" Natasha asked, "And an airplane, seriously? Are we stealing a quinjet?"

"Nope, they can track those."

"We can't take weapons through security, even if we risk using our real identities. You know that."

"I do."

"You're not seriously suggesting we ditch our weapons in the middle of a manhunt, are you?"

"I think he is," Samantha said, staring at him in confusion. "Although if you are, I can get us some the second we get off the plane."

"No. Samantha Fisher is working with the Ten Rings in Pakistan. Lindsay Dinkley, however, is your average suburban housewife," he said, placing his backpack on the ground and pulling out two costume jewelry rings for her to wear, "Expecting her second kid. You're spending time with your older brother William Cross and our half-sister from Mom's second marriage, Samantha Leigh. Got it?"

"Clint, none of us look anything alike," Natasha said- her version of a protest.

"It's believable enough," Clint said sharply, "And no one's going to vet it, Nat."

"What about the fakes? How good are they?"

"Made them at Headquarters, so-"

"So they now have the aliases we're using? Is that what you're saying?" Natasha demanded angrily. Samantha looked pale.

"No. I cleared the system when I was done and did it in the middle of the night; no one will know it was ever used to create those."

"You're positive?"

"90%."

"Clint!"

Samantha threw up at his feet, effectively ending the argument.

* * *

They all sat in a row on the airplane, with Samantha on the end in case the morning sickness came back. Natasha had claimed the window seat because, as she'd said, she could, so Clint was crammed in the middle. He didn't appreciate it.

"Why Iowa?" Samantha asked him, fidgeting in her seat.

"Yeah, Clint?" Natasha hissed, "Why your home state?"

"Samantha?" Clint said to Natasha, "Shut up. Even I'm not idiotic enough to take us to Waverly."

"Still, _William_. It's a valid question."

"You know how I told you I have a secret safe house?"

"Yeah?"

"That's where we're going. And it's not in Waverly."

"Where is it?"

"Why does it matter? No one knows it exists besides Fury, because he helped me set it up when I joined up. I was supposed to take you there after I brought you in, but you were too high profile, so we went to the one in Scarborough. You'll like it, I promise. Both of you." Samantha nodded, seeming placated with the knowledge, but Natasha still looked distrustful.

"It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house, Clint."

"It's _my_ safe house. It'll be fine."

Natasha still didn't look convinced. Samantha was resigned to it, though, which Clint took as a victory. He fastened his seatbelt and leaned his head back on the seat.

* * *

The look of irritation grew on Natasha's face at every kick to the back of her seat. Samantha had fallen asleep almost the second they had taken off, curled up into the best ball her seat belt allowed her to be in. Clint was "reading" a book about Alexander Hamilton that Barney had recommended, because his brother clearly didn't get that Clint was more of graphic novel kind of person. Besides, it seemed a perfect read for William Cross.

"Can you _stop_!" Natasha finally snapped, turning around to look at the kid. Clint, curious, glanced back himself to see a little girl coloring on a napkin as she swung her legs into Natasha's seat. The woman he assumed was her mother sat beside her, scribbling in a notebook. She looked up when Natasha glared at her, then over to the little girl, then back to Natasha.

"Oh my God, I'm _so_ sorry!" the woman said, laying a hand on the girl's legs and telling her what was going on.

"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to irritate you."

He wouldn't say Natasha's face softened at that, but she definitely calmed down and smiled.

"It's okay. Just don't do it anymore, okay?" The little girl nodded vigorously and he and Natasha turned back around.

"You're getting better at dealing with kids."

"Sure."

"I think she listened to you."

"It's a long flight."

It really wasn't, but Natasha was in a mood, so he wasn't going to fight her on it. Samantha stirred in her seat, blinking her eyes.

"How long have I been out?" she said, stifling a yawn.

"Not long. You can go back to sleep if you want," Clint told her. She shook her head, stretching out her legs.

"No, I'm hungry. Has the stewardess come by yet?"

"She did right after you fell asleep, but I'd expect her back soon. And if not, Natasha bought three bags of chips at the airport. I'm sure she'd be willing to share, right, Nat?" He addressed the last part to his partner, who was already reaching for her carry on.

"Sour cream and onion okay?" Natasha asked.

"Normally no, but right now that sounds fantastic," Samantha told her, practically snatching the bag from Natasha's hands and opening it quickly. Clint held back a snicker, but Natasha still noticed and rolled her eyes, though whether it was directed at him or Samantha, he wasn't sure.

"Is that really all you got?" Clint asked, peering into her carry on. There was another bag of sour cream and onion chips, as well as a bag barbeque. He laughed internally at her protectiveness over the barbeque chips and leaned back in his seat, intending to get at least a little bit of rest.

* * *

Clint drove the pickup truck they'd gotten from the rental place with all the windows down. Natasha had made him blast the radio and was currently belting some song about a girl on the side having a baby. He wasn't sure she realized how uncomfortable both he and Samantha had gotten when she started singing, but he didn't feel the need to highlight the awkwardness and just let her yell sing.

He pulled into a gas station and watched Samantha climb out and head straight inside, presumably in the direction of the bathroom. Neither he nor Natasha made any movements.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm telling you everything," he answered, keeping his eyes on the store rather than on the redhead behind him.

"How long have you really had this safehouse?"

"Fury set it up when I told him about you. Everything else I told Samantha about this place is true. I'm not going to lie to her, Tasha."

"I know you're not," Natasha said, quickly, almost too quickly, like she hadn't expected that from him but knew she should have.

"Let's go in. I think we'll need some extra toiletries and shit. And I highly doubt there's anything but Fury's weird military meals to eat."

He wasn't all that surprised to see that Samantha was just coming out of the bathroom when they walked in. She placed the key on the counter and then walked over to him and Natasha, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Do we need anything?"

"Microwaveable meals. Snacks. Toiletries. We'll deal with clothes and other stuff tomorrow."

"We're not far, then?" Natasha asked.

"Half an hour tops."

"Really?" Samantha asked, nodding. "How off the grid is this place?"

"Fairly. It's far enough."

She nodded again and headed towards the microwaveable food, while Natasha started looking for the toiletries. Clint took a deep breath and followed Samantha, trying to find the beer.

* * *

The three of them sat outside at a McDonald's ten minutes away from the house, since Natasha had demanded actual food. She was still inside, using the bathroom, leaving him and Samantha alone for the first time since their talk about him being involved in everything. That had been what, two weeks ago? He wasn't sure anymore.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, awkwardly. He wasn't good at silence.

"Fine," she said, not caring to elaborate. She took a bite of her McFlurry and looked over at the window of the store that looked directly into the play area. There were two kids running around inside it. He thought he saw her smile at them.

"I want to apologize. Again."

"Don't."

"I feel bad about... all of it."

"Look. We wouldn't be in this position if I had been smart. I shouldn't have hired new guards two days before a fundraiser, because I know that's how you got another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in. I shouldn't have slept with the first guy to show some sort of interest in me. I shouldn't have spoken to you, period."

"It's not your fault. I was supposed to take you in _without_ having sex, and if it was _fantastic_ and I really wish we could've gone that fourth time."

She gave him a look and he chuckled. She tried to still look stern, but quickly failed, laughing with him.

"Yeah, we went at it alright," she agreed, grinning. "Did we really go three times? It felt like more."

"Because I'm just that good."

"Please. Natasha told me while you were in the bathroom at the airport that you're a human disaster and that she's surprised you knocked me up in the first place; she didn't know you'd even _had_ sex before me."

"That little-"

He was cut off by Natasha returning to the table.

"What're we talking about?"

"Nothing," he and Samantha chorused together, and she set him a sly grin as she took another bite of McFlurry.

* * *

Samantha was passed out in the passenger seat and Natasha was curled up like a cat in the back when he turned onto the longass driveway that lead to the farmhouse Fury had purchased. Clint hadn't been there before, though he had a pretty good idea of what the place would look like if his childhood home was anything to go off of.

The house was in sight when he saw it and pulled the truck to an abrupt halt, killing all the lights.

"Natasha!" he hissed, and she bolted straight up, looking around wildly.

"What?"

"There's a car in the driveway!"

"I thought you said this was _your_ place!"

"It is!"

In the darkness, he thought he saw Natasha's eyes widen. They were fucking screwed.

 **A/N: I know this is shorter than usual; sorry! The next update should be around August 28!**


End file.
